


Powerplay

by ThornWild



Series: Moments [10]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Porn, season 6, spuffy sexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 15:44:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornWild/pseuds/ThornWild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s in her power, and he knows it. She could do anything she wants to him, and he would let her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Powerplay

He’s in her power, and he knows it. She could do anything she wants to him, and he would let her. And she could, at any moment, kill him. She could, but he knows she won’t. Just like he won’t kill her. Not now. Not ever.

Buffy has him pinned to a stone wall. Her hands are wandering over his body, squeezing, pinching, tickling him in all the right places. He is naked from the waist up, but she still has all her clothes on, something he finds tremendously unfair. He would do something about it, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s finding it a little difficult to move, due to Buffy’s mouth being attached to his neck, and the things she’s doing with her tongue and her teeth there has him rooted to the spot, panting. It’s a reflex; vampires don’t need to breathe.

She takes his hands, lifts them up above his head and entwines their fingers. She licks a trail up to his earlobe, which she takes into her mouth and sucks on for a little while. He groans, deep in his throat. Her body is pressed tightly against his, and she rolls her hips against his groin. He pushes back against her, wills her to just get on with it already, because this is getting so painful, but it’s a good sort of pain. It’s pain with a promise.

‘I always wondered,’ she whispers in his ear, ‘without a beating heart, how can the blood rush to your dick?’

He smiles. ‘I don’t know, love,’ he says. ‘Must be magic.’

She lets go of one of his hands, snaking hers down his torso. Her hand is so warm. It feels like fire against his flesh. It burns him. She cups his sex through the fabric of his jeans, rubbing with her palm, and his hips buck of their own accord. He pulls her closer with his free arm, gazes into her eyes, a smile playing on his lips.

Then, in an instant, he reverses their positions, pushing her roughly against the wall and crashing his lips against hers. She lets out a small whimper as he hoists up her skirt. She’s not wearing underwear, and she’s so wet and ready that it’s hard to resist the urge to just take her right now. But he wants to play first.

He caresses her gently, loving every little moan and whimper that she utters, revelling in the heat and the life. Then he increases speed and pressure, until she’s a shivering, shuddering wreck, still on her feet for naught but the virtue of supporting herself on his frame. Her nails dig into his shoulders, and she is biting into his neck so hard that he worries she might draw blood.

After, she sinks to the floor, limp and gasping, and he follows, straddling her, gazing into her green eyes, never breaking eye contact. He pushes her shirt up, slowly, to reveal her tummy and her small, perky breasts, pink nipples hard from the cold of his touch. He leans down, pulls her shirt off entirely. Takes one of her nipples into his mouth. She draws a sharp, gasping breath.

‘Cold,’ she murmurs. He smiles. Nibbles lightly at the nipple in his mouth. She lets out a moan.

He bites and kisses his way up her neck to her face. Then he pauses, looking into her eyes again. He strokes her cheek with his thumb.

‘I want you so badly it hurts,’ he whispers. ‘Tell me you want me too.’

She looks away, her face flushed. ‘Spike…’ She frowns.

‘Tell me you want me inside you, or I’ll stop,’ he says. ‘I’ll leave you hanging and you can sort yourself out.’

She looks at him again, and quirks an eyebrow. ‘You won’t,’ she says.

_No, I won’t._ ‘Try me,’ he says out loud. ‘I know you want me, pet, I can feel it. Your body is screaming for it. But I want to hear you say it. Say you want me.’

‘I…’ she begins. Then she hesitates. Looks away, looks up at him again. ‘I want you.’

A shudder goes through his body. Those words alone, they’re almost enough to push him over the edge. ‘What do you want me to do?’ he whispers.

She draws breath, fixes him with her green eyes. ‘Fuck me.’ It’s an imperative. An order. And also a plea. Her tone of voice is verging on desperate.

‘Oh, Buffy, I need you!’ he mutters. He rids himself of his pants and pushes inside her. Her heat surrounds him. He feels the warmth of her spread throughout his body, filling him up, making him whole. She’s all he wants, all he needs, all he craves, and inside her he finds bliss.

She says that she doesn’t love him. But right now – as she clings to him, pushes back against him, spreads her legs wider as though to try and get him deeper inside, whimpering and moaning and shuddering, her body urging him to go faster, do it harder, fill her up – surely some part of her loves him? It must. If only just a little bit. She loves him, just a little bit. She must. Or else, what’s the point?


End file.
